My holster makes a bulge under my mage robe. Its presence comforts me. I can feel the weight of the .44 magnum, and the handle touching me through my shirt. It is my best friend. It, for one, never betrayed me.
Another rotten day at Hogwarts. This school is corrupted right down to the bone. They're all in the same boat. Someone has to change this.
First, there's the intolerant bastards. They hate half-bloods. Damn it, how I hate intolerant people. If it were up to me I'd line them up along a wall and put a bullet in each of their heads.
And all the people helping them. Supplying them. Covering them. Bunch of shit. Up the wall and a bullet. If only I had the power.
And all their passive accomplices. The cowards with little smiles, just watching evil at work. They're too happy those assholes are doing the dirty work for them. Scumbags. Up the wall, up the wall.
And there's those of you who don't even know about any of this. Yeah right. Goddamn hypocrites. I can't stand you. Same: up the wall, shot in skull.
And I'm not even talking about those on my side. What a pile of crap. I'd like to clean that up. With a large caliber round.
But unfortunately, I've got my orders. I have to enforce the law and I'm supposed to respect it. Do these assholes respect it? Then I don't see why I should. I didn't start this. I mean, really. And with those hormones rushing in and my voice changing it's not easy every day. Here comes Hermione. Hi Hermione. Bitch.
Captain Dumbledore wants me to investigate on the case of these psychedelic potion dealers who got put down on the fourth floor. Good thing. I hope it was painful. But the guys who did that are mean motherfuckers and they deserve to die. Well, "no mess-ups" Dumbledore said. What a coward.
Got to pick up my partner, Ron. That wimp. If only I didn't have him slowing me down. He forgot my birthday when I was stuck with my abusive uncle and aunt. I might forgive him. Someday. That's really not nice.
My broom has a hard time starting. We're heading for the crime scene. It's a fucking slaughter. The bodies are spread all across the place. There's a sound of padded steps: the caretakers cat walking around the pieces, inspecting them as if this were some kind of goddamn bakery. I don't like this cat. Nor the caretaker. He put me on detention duty, had me clean all the Quidditch trophies just because I put dirt in the hall coming back from Hagrid's. It's true that it was raining and my shoes were wet. It's also true that I had just put down two pimps. There was brain everywhere. I couldn't help it.
I'm sure Malfoy is behind all this. Or Snape. Or maybe they're both working for Voldemort. I don't like Malfoy. He has an ugly face. And he made fun of my dead daddy. This makes me. I want to shoot him in both his kneecaps.
No witnesses. Of course. There's a house-elf track in a pool of blood, though. I think I'll pay a visit to that little shit Dobby. He's probably still squatting in that same whorehouse.
"Tell me, Dobby you snitch, what happened yesterday on the 4th floor?"
"Dobby know nada, señor !"
"Come on you little piece of crap, spill your guts. You still got a brother in jail, don't you? How long did he get, Ron?"
"Fifteen years. And at Azkaban on top of that. Bet he gets ass-fucked every evening. I heard you're all fags in your family."
"No! That's no true, señor ! But . . . if you help his brother, maybe the memory come back to Dobby, okay, señor?"
"I thought of a better idea: you start talking or I'll arrange a probation for your brother. In a casket."
"All right, señor ! We make deal."
Fuck ! I knew it ! Malfoy. I'm gonna have to get him. It won't be easy. That bastard is protected. He's probably hanging around the Defence Against the Dark Arts room. Hey, here comes Neville. Hi Neville. Faggot.
Malfoy ! That asshole ! He's here !
its not like anyone reads this anyways
